


If You're Lost You Can Look

by rhiannonhero



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-26
Updated: 2010-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-10 19:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/103713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiannonhero/pseuds/rhiannonhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://rhihero-fic.livejournal.com/55456.html">Into My Arms</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erica_Is_Amazed](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Erica_Is_Amazed).



> This story is written for [](http://erica-is-amazed.livejournal.com/profile)[**erica_is_amazed**](http://erica-is-amazed.livejournal.com/) for her amazing contribution to the [](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/profile)[**help_haiti**](http://community.livejournal.com/help_haiti/) project. I hope that you enjoy this story! Your bid was tremendous and I am humbled by the faith you put in me to deliver something worthy of it. I hope I managed it even a little. :)

  
Brian didn't like it when Justin drove. It wasn't that Justin was a bad driver per se; no, it was that Justin was a good driver. A conscientious little prick who stopped completely at every stop sign, even though they were on some godforsaken country road in the middle of nowhere.

Belle, strapped into her booster seat in the back, had headphones on and was watching the DVD player intently. Brian refrained from asking where they were going yet again; Justin had already shut him down twice.

The fields surrounding them were green and rolling, and Brian could smell something that he thought was actually sunshine seeping in through the air conditioner vents. He leaned back in the passenger seat and sighed, restless and bored.

"Are you taking us to fucking West Virginia for Christsakes?"

"It's only twenty minutes outside of Pittsburgh."

Brian narrowed his eyes and studied Justin's easy demeanor. "You seem pretty fucking sure of yourself. For some reason, I can't imagine this is a surprise I'm going to like."

"I don't really care if you do," Justin said, turning the radio until it came to a classical station. He paused and the wail of a violin filled the car. Brian cleared his throat, and Justin hit the scan button again, leaning back when he found a station declaring their intent to play the entirety of David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars.

"And just how is that selfish sentiment supposed to reflect on our budding partnership?" Brian asked, sarcastically.

"Excuse me, are you, Brian Kinney, actually suggesting that we give up our right to make autonomous decisions about our lives, our money, or our dicks?"

"Kid in the back," Brian said, looking in the side mirror and adjusting it to see if Belle was still watching her movie, and when he was assured that she was, he added, "And, of course not, I like the choices you make about your dick. Like last week, when you came home smelling like the hot jizz of a young bohemian…"

"Shhh," Justin said, looking in the rearview mirror. "Do you need more chocolate milk, honey?" he asked.

The answer was yes and Brian wrapped up his comment with a leer and a suggestive adjustment to his own crotch, before turning around to grope in the cooler behind Justin's seat. By the time he'd retrieved the chocolate milk, punched the straw through the film, handed it to Belle, and made sure she was settled in with her headphones again, Justin was turning into a long drive leading up to a huge country manor.

Getting out of the car, Brian noted that the house was enormous, massive. No, it was fucking vast, and Brian stared at it, leaning against the passenger door of the car as Justin unbuckled Belle's seat belt, and she jumped out of the car, dashing over to a tricycle standing beside the steps up to the front door, and climbed onto it, pedaling quickly down the drive.

Brian waited silently, making mental notes. Belle hadn't said a word. She hadn't seemed surprised. She'd been here before. He had a sneaking suspicion, a pressing concern, a fear even, that the tricycle might belong to her.

"So?" Justin asked.

"Who lives here?"

Justin grinned, gestured expansively with his hands, encompassing the house, the fields, Belle pedaling furiously down the drive. "We do."

Brian's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? I think I fucking heard you say that we live here."

"I bought it."

"You bought it?"

"Yes. Do you need some hearing aids, old man? I know you heard me the first time."

Brian stared at the house and crossed his arms over his chest. He could hear Belle's tricycle bell ringing as she turned around and started their direction.

"Brian," Justin said, seriously. "It has a great studio where I can work on my art. I don't _need_ to be in New York. I can fly up when Simone needs me. And, believe it or not, there is an amazing private school in a little town five minutes from here where Belle could get a first class education without having to commute."

Brian nodded, biting his lower lip. He swallowed back any response and tried to breathe as the familiar tide of resistance filled him. He knew what this was about. Justin might not be willing to admit it, but he knew exactly what was going on here.

"It's a lot closer to Kinnetik than New York City…" Justin trailed off as Belle skidded to a halt beside them.

Brian looked down at her, brown curls in a halo around her head, and her mouth open in a huge smile.

"Isn't it amazing, Brian?" she asked. "It's got a pool! And a tennis court where I can have tea parties! And you should see the stables! We don't have horses yet, but Daddy said when I'm bigger we can get some and then I can take riding lessons…" Belle chattered on, and Brian looked between her, Justin, and the house.

"Aren't you going to say something?" Justin asked.

"Congratulations on your new home, Sunshine." Brian let the sentence hang.

Justin's eyes flared for a moment in annoyance and then, as though he reconsidered, Justin stepped forward and put his arm around Brian's waist, and ran a hand over his chest. "No, Brian, it's our home. Mine, Belle's, and yours."

"Right," Brian drawled, and then he glanced down at Belle's big eyes which were beginning to show worry and fear. He pasted on a smile, grabbed Justin's hand and pulled him close, nuzzling his ear and murmuring, "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

Justin pulled back, looking up at him with the wide-eyed innocence Brian knew he faked so well.

Brian ran his hand over Belle's hair and said in his least smarmy manner, "Why don't you show me your new castle, Princess."

Justin grinned and Belle jumped up and down clapping. "Oh, Brian, come see my room! It's got ponies painted on the walls and fairies and flowers! Can you believe it? It's so pretty! It's like magic!"

::::

Following Belle through the living room, the enormous kitchen, and up the beautiful staircase, Brian cast his mind back to the day after Christmas, when he had wrapped the rings that he'd picked out alone, and concealed the gift in his jacket pocket until Michael and his kids, and the rest of the crazy extended family had dispersed. Belle had been carted off to Jennifer's for the night, when Brian finally had Justin alone in the loft. They'd fucked on the kitchen counter and after Justin had slid to the floor, sated and laughing softly, Brian reached around the counter for his jacket, pulled the gift out, and pushed it into Justin's hands.

Justin's mouth fell open as he stared at the rings, shiny and glittering in the low light. "Brian, wow…they're…you're unbelievable."

"It's true. I am."

Justin laughed a little and blinked his eyes. He handled the box gingerly, like he'd really prefer not to be holding it, and, sure enough, it wasn't long before he sat the box on the floor beside him and said, "I…don't know what to say."

Brian said, "Say that you know that I'm serious about this, Justin. I'm not just fucking around here. I've never been more sincere in my life."

Justin's eyes met his with sudden concern and he ran his hands up to Brian's shoulders in a comforting manner. "I realize that. I mean, I think I do. Or, I'm coming to realize that. I just…I can't wrap my head around this. Around you."

Brian's stomach tightened. There was something in Justin's voice, in his eyes, and suddenly Brian felt like he was ten years old, hiding in the closet, hearing his father's loud voice and knowing that his world was on the verge of becoming very painful. He swallowed hard and took a steadying breath, pushing those memories back, trying to keep himself from retreating in anticipation of hurt.

Justin went on, "I mean, you're the worst candidate for marriage, you do realize that, right? I want to be with you, Brian, but, how can I marry you?"

"So, when you said yes, what you fucking meant to say was, 'I'm not sure'." He blinked rapidly and hated that his voice was higher pitched than he wanted it to be.

"It's not that I'm not sure," Justin said, his hands still trying to act as a calming influence, running up and down Brian's arms.

"But…you're not sure," Brian replied.

"No, I'm sure. It's just…"

"That you're not sure."

Justin pulled back and pressed his fingers to his eyes, frustrated, and said, "Fine, I'm not sure."

Brian nodded and stood up, opening the fridge to grab some water. He needed something to push the tension down, swallow it away.

Justin followed him, grabbing his waist and turning him around as Brian broke the seal on the water. "Hey, you know what I am sure of?"

Brian lifted his eyebrows and took a long swallow, the water cold and bracing. He took a deep breath and fought harder to not think of the boy hiding in the closet, waiting, anticipating pain.

"I'm sure that I want you here right now. I'm sure that I'll want you here next week, and next year, and when I die. I'm just… Marriage goes against everything you've ever believed in, and, Jesus, Brian, it's only been a few months…and before that it was _ten years_."

Brian nodded, pretended to shrug it off, and said, "Sure."

"Brian, I'm not going anywhere. We're still building a life together."

Brian forced a smile. "Whatever you say, Sunshine," and he had headed for the shower alone.

Now it was two months later and Brian ran his hand down the smooth, newly oiled banister, taking his time as Belle hopped down the steps like a bunny. These were people he loved more than anyone, his hard-won family, and this house was incredible, marvelous, and probably everything that Justin had ever wanted in a home. Brian knew that. He also knew that it had been two months since their Christmas conversation and Justin was still stalling on making any plans to make their relationship something permanent. The house was an offering and Brian knew that he was supposed to take it, accepting that the marriage plans were never going to materialize, because Justin didn't want to marry him, and not because Justin had no faith in Brian's sincerity.

At the bottom of the steps there was a deep and dark closet for hanging guests' coats. Brian gazed into it as Justin babbled about having a place big enough for the entire family to gather for Christmas, including Michael's kids, Gus, the munchers, and Deb, and _everyone_, and Brian nodded silently, not really listening, seeing instead the image of small arms and legs curled into a ball there in the dark closet corner and remembering his pounding heart and the anticipation of being pulled out of his closet by strong hands that hit harder than he could handle.

::::

"Hey, Bri," Ted said, breezing into the office and slapping some papers onto Brian's desk. "Here's the paperwork for the acquisition of the New York properties."

Brian pushed them back across the desk and said, "Canceled."

"Excuse me?"

"Cancel the deals, Theodore. There aren't going to be any New York acquisitions."

Ted's eyes widened. "Since when?"

"Since this weekend."

"And I'm just now hearing about this? Brian, I've worked my ass of to get these assholes in New York to give us a fair…hey!" Ted's fingers set to snapping and he leaned in quickly. "Wait a minute. What did you do? How did you fuck it up this time? He's gone? It's over?"

"Jesus, Ted, you sound like Mikey," Brian muttered, bending over his desk and pretending to be busy with some work.

"What did you do?"

Brian rolled his eyes and leaned back. "I didn't _do_ anything. Well, except ask him to marry me."

Ted's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You _what_?"

Brian nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a line, enjoying Ted's discomfiture.

"And he broke up with you for that?" Ted asked in confusion.

"No, he's turned me down."

Ted's mouth hung open a little and his eyes somehow grew bigger as he tried to put this together. "So, let me get this straight: you asked him to marry you, he said no, and you dumped him?"

"Yes."

Ted stared at him, obviously appalled.

"Well, except for the dumping him part. He bought a house just outside of Pittsburgh. He and Belle are moving here. So..." Brian stood up, crossed around the desk and slapped the paperwork to Ted's chest. "No New York acquisitions."

Ted dithered for a moment, but he finally turned around and said, "But what about Kinnetik?. We can't continue to house everyone here. This building is way too small. We were counting on you and some of the others moving into the New York space."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to get a new Pittsburgh space, then."

Ted blinked and pushed out his lower lip. "Oh, well…okay."

Brian nodded and raised his eyebrows. Ted stood and stared at him a little longer until Brian said, "Find some architects for bids on designs."

Ted started taking notes.

"And Ted?"

"Yeah, Bri?"

"Get out." And just like he always did when Brian barked, Ted scampered, and Brian had to force down a smile.

::::

The divey Italian restaurant was nearly empty when Brian arrived and he walked toward the kitchen immediately, locking eyes with a waiter who was counting out his tips. Brian lifted his eyebrow and the waiter glanced away and back again with some interest. It was too bad that he was here for business, or he'd take a detour to the bathroom, knowing the waiter would join him there.

"Brian!" Jack Harrington's voice boomed from the kitchen, his double-chin wobbling as he waved vigorously, indicating that Brian should join him in the back. Brian spared a final glance for the waiter, who looked disappointed, and then slipped past the soda dispensers into the kitchen which reeked of garlic and spices.

"Jack," Brian greeted, shaking his hand firmly.

"It's good to see you, Brian. Good to see you, indeed. Since Kinnetik outgrew our little restaurant, I've missed your input. Our advertising is for shit these days."

Brian murmured an appropriate response. He hoped he didn't look too eager. He was already going to be out a lot more money than he probably needed to be.

Jack smiled widely and wiped some sweat off his brow. "I have to say, I'm glad you called me, and it's kind of nice to have _you_ by the balls for a change."

Brian feigned a chuckle. Jack was more on the mark than he realized about having Brian by the balls. He had something Brian wanted, something he couldn't get from anyone else, and Brian was willing to pay a lot of money to get it.

"Do you keep it here?" Brian asked, glancing around the greasy kitchen, hoping that the answer was no.

"In my office," Jack said, jerking his head toward a door with some inlaid glass.

Brian smiled again, tension seeping into his muscles. He glanced around at the kitchen, the greasy vats of the fryers and can after can of tomato sauce.

"Come on. I'll show it to you. I'm sure you want to see it before you fork over the cash. I gotta say, it's the best investment I've ever made. I had no idea I'd be able to turn it around so quickly. I have to say, I almost swallowed my teeth when you accepted my price. It sure shocked the hell outta me."

Brian nodded. It had been an exorbitant amount, but there was only one, and Jack had it, and Brian wanted it. He'd pay whatever it took.

The office was overflowing and filthy. It looked like Jack could use a secretary or someone to keep him from drowning in paper. Brian's eyes sought and found what he was looking for, leaning safe and sound against the only wall not covered with filing cabinets. A quick examination proved that not a grease or tomato stain was to be seen.

Brian pulled out his wallet and started unfolding bills. As he pressed them into Jack's hand, Jack said, "I'm kind of glad to see it go. It was a waste here. I tried to take it home, but my wife said it didn't match the couch."

::::

"Oh my God, if you say that it doesn't match the couch…." Justin trailed off, his hands raising and dropping in exasperation, the implication that he would kill Brian clear.

Brian rolled his eyes. "No, I don't want it in the living room because it bores me."

"Fine. You find something to put on that fucking wall then. I'm done." Justin stalked off to the other side of the gallery as Belle called after him, "That's a dollar, Daddy!"

She turned her eyes on Brian, "Can we go now, Brian? I want to get candy. Let's go to F.A.O. Schwartz. You can buy me some candy and a new toy."

Brian tweaked her hair and shook his head. Her mouth drew into a familiar pout and she crossed her arms over her chest and glared across the room at her daddy.

They'd been back in New York City for a month since Justin had bought the house, and Justin was taking the design and décor of chez Taylor-Kinney very seriously, channeling all of his focus and energy into making it right, and while Justin was as much of a perfectionist as Brian about these things, there was an angry edge to it all, which was something that Brian found distancing. He had anticipated small squabbles over the coffee tables and arm chairs, but Justin was tense and jumpy, easy to take offense, and Brian was treading carefully, avoiding the sharp and pointed edges of Justin's moods.

Brian's cell phone rang and he tapped Belle's shoulder, motioning with his head that she should join Justin across the room. She screwed up her lips in annoyance and stomped over to her father as Brian, rolling his eyes, hooked his Bluetooth over his ear and said, "Kinney here."

"Hey, Dad." Gus's voice still surprised Brian; it had grown strange and deep over the last two years. His son was only fourteen, but he'd matured early physically, if not entirely mentally and emotionally.

"Gus, is everything okay?" Brian asked.

"Yeah."

Justin's head swiveled around when he heard Brian say Gus's name, and he took Belle's hand, crossing the room toward Brian with a look of concern on his face. Brian shrugged at Justin in confusion, waited for Gus to say more and when nothing seemed forthcoming, he finally replied, "Oh, well…good."

"Yeah."

Brian's eyebrows went up as the silence dragged on. He finally cleared his throat and said, "Did you call me for a reason?"

Justin elbowed him and made a face. Brian raised his hands and dropped them again, in a bewildered what-the-fuck gesture.

"Kind of."

"And that reason would be…?"

"Mom said you were getting married."

Brian groaned softly. Theodore. The blabbermouth. "Not exactly, Sonny Boy."

Gus's tone seemed to insist otherwise as he said, "She said you asked that Justin guy to marry you."

Justin whispered, "Is everything okay?"

Brian shrugged his confusion and Justin's expression shifted into a barely concealed amusement. Brian ignored him. "I guess that's true, yes, but…" Brian hesitated. He felt oddly embarrassed to admit this to his son. "But he declined." He tried to say it with a self-deprecating twist of humor, but he heard the note of true bitterness beneath.

"Oh." Gus was silent for a moment and Brian wondered if it would be okay to end the phone call now. "Why?"

"Well, who wouldn't? Your pop's a piece of shit. You know that," Brian said, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Justin's lips twist in annoyance.

"That's a dollar, Brian," Belle piped up.

"Annabelle, hush," Justin whispered. "Brian--"

"Pop…Dad, you're not a piece of shit." Gus sounded quiet and sad.

"Thanks, Sonny Boy, but you know better than anyone that I am," Brian said, breaking away from Justin and Belle, pushing open the gallery door, and heading out into the street without looking back. This wasn't a conversation he should be having with his kid. This was inappropriate, like always, and he didn't know how to do this dad thing. He pressed his thumb against his eyebrow, relieving some pressure, and then patted his pockets for cigarettes that weren't there, having told Belle he'd quit, fuck it all.

"Dad, you still there?"

"Yeah."

"Can I tell you something?"

Brian sighed. "Sure, kiddo."

"I'm glad."

"You're glad?"

"Yeah, I'm glad he said no. Do you hate me now?"

Brian felt Justin's hand on his arm, and he looked down into concerned blue eyes. Belle was clinging to Justin's arm looking even more upset than her father. Brian shook his head and covered the microphone of the Bluetooth with one hand, and said, "Go. I need some time alone."

Justin swallowed hard, nodded, and took Belle off down the street. Her lower lip puffed out and pulled in, and she started to cry. Justin swung her up in his arms, hustling her on down the street as Brian stood on the sidewalk, brushed by people pushing past, and listening to the fuzz of silence from Canada as his son waited for him to answer.

"Dad? You hate me."

"Gus, I do not hate you. I…" He paused and forced the words through his lips. Would it never get easier? "I love you. You're my kid.

Brian moved to lean against the side of the building he'd just exited, watching the distant blue of Justin's jacket and the red of Belle's poncho disappearing around the corner.

"Don't you want to know why?" Gus asked.

Brian thought for a moment. "If you want to tell me, go ahead."

"Because I'm mad at you." Gus said it quietly but with resolve.

"Welcome to adolescence, Sonny Boy," Brian said. He was beginning to feel exasperated. Was this going to be one of those phone calls? The kind of phone call he'd been half-expecting for years, and had known would come since the day he'd signed over his rights to Mel years ago. Was this the day when Gus told him what a for shit dad he'd been? Did he even feel like listening to this? He bit back a sharp reprimand and fingered the button to hang up the phone but didn't push it.

"I don't see why you should get to start over with a new kid when I don't get to start over with a new dad," Gus said, his voice breaking a little.

Brian blew out a long breath and closed his eyes. Yes, it was one of those phone calls. He said nothing.

"It's not fair," Gus went on. "You weren't there for any of my football games this year. You haven't met my girlfriend. I can't even remember the last time you came to visit without Mom calling to _ask_ you to come. I don't get a new dad, so you can't have a new kid!"

Brian nodded, and realizing that Gus couldn't see him, he cleared his throat and said, "Okay."

Gus was breathing heavily on the other end of the line. "Fine."

"Good," Brian said.

"Well, then…bye."

"Bye," Brian said, disconnecting the call. He stared across the street, watching the people bunch together and drift apart, seeing without seeing, and thinking that having relationships with other people was really a fucking pain in the ass.

::::

After dinner, Brian snuck out onto the fire escape to smoke a cigarette from the emergency box they kept out there. Justin had demanded to know what the fuck was going on almost as soon as Brian had walked in the door. He'd spent the hours after the conversation with Gus walking around the city, picking up three different guys. He fucked one of them in the bathroom of the cafe he'd seen him in, one in the doorway of a back alley while a homeless guy gave unnecessary commentary, and the last one behind a clothing rack in a grungy consignment shop.

Brian was annoyed that the fucks hadn't even come close to erasing the uncomfortable feelings tumbling around inside of him, like he was a hollow man with a few sharp and pointed feelings that pressed against his innards, causing him pain, but he couldn't even name them. Was he angry? Was he hurt? Was he sad? He didn't even fucking know. He just wanted it to stop.

He'd shrugged Justin off and ignored Belle, pushing past her to get to the bathroom. As the shower poured over his skin, washing way dried come and sex-scum, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

"Brian," Justin's voice echoed off the bathroom walls. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy."

The shower door opened and Justin gazed in, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes observant and tired. "Dinner is ready."

Justin hadn't brought it up since. Brian lit his cigarette, glancing through the window to see Justin hustling Belle back toward her bedroom. It was early to send her to bed, but Brian knew his reprieve would soon be over. Even if he managed to keep himself shut down, Justin would have his say, and the words would seep in, get under his skin, and he'd do something stupid based on them. He always did.

The traffic below made a soothing white noise of consistent sound. He inhaled deeply and wished that he had something more mellow than the cigarette, a nice joint like the ones he used to buy from Silvio in the Pitts, back when he was a teenager, and he'd hide them in his speakers, smoking it when his dad was passed out from drinking; the marijuana laid a warm blanket over him then, gently soothing the new bruises, helping to mend the new cuts.

"Hey," Justin's voice came from behind him. "You've been a real dick today."

Brian nodded, blowing smoke out slowly.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on? Or should I guess?"

Brian remained silent. He could feel the tension between them mounting, like a storm front moving in when it had been dry for weeks on end; this had been coming for awhile now.

"You're pissy because Gus called to tell you that you've been a selfish, crappy dad and now you've decided that you're going to live up to his expectations of you, and play that little scenario out to its inevitable conclusion, punishing me and Belle for being near you when you're on a self-loathing rampage…"

Brian interrupted the flow of words, leaning in quick and barking, "Maybe you should get a grip on why you've been such a little fucking princess lately, yourself, before you turn your psychoanalysis on me, Sunshine."

Justin's eyes flashed hot and he moved forward, standing on his toes, his lips snarling as he said, "You want to know what's going on with me lately? Fine. I'll fucking tell you. You've been nothing but a lay-down pussy since I took you out to the house, arguing with me over shit like paintings for the living room, but never really telling me anything real, acting like this house is some kind of fucking obligation to you, something that you've been forced to accept, a pretense for something else. I'm fucking sick of feeling like I'm forcing you into some kind of domestic situation that you resent, and I'm—"

"Oh, get fucking _real_, Sunshine! You're talking all around the real fucking issue, which is that you don't want to marry me."

"That's not—"

"Admit it! You're not sure about making any kind of long-term commitment to me, despite everyfuckingthing you've said. Despite showing up in my life after ten years and making this whole fucking mess."

Justin sputtered and started to say something, but Brian cut him off. "I thought I taught you better than this." Brian leaned in and whispered, "_Never_ make promises you can't keep."

Justin's breath caught and Brian didn't give him time to reply, climbing back through the fire escape, and out the door. He didn't know where he was going, but lying in bed next to Justin while they both felt themselves spitted and turning over a fire was not something he could stomach tonight.

As he stepped out onto into the flow of people on the sidewalk, the weather took a note from their argument, and rain started to fall, with fat drops spattering on the sidewalk and a roll of thunder crashing above.

::::

After having spent the day walking around and fucking, he wasn't really interested in spending the night doing that, too. Or maybe it was just that he was getting too old. He stepped into a café and settled in with a cup of coffee and his bitter, melancholy mood. The place was almost empty, and given that it was a Friday night, that implied that the food must suck, and, sure enough, one taste of the gasoline they called coffee proved the point.

It was easy to be alone in Manhattan crowds, but at the moment it wasn't nice to be alone, looking out a window, nothing but his own jittering knee and clasped hands to remind him that he was miserable. He hadn't talked to Michael in awhile, not since he got back to New York. He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial.

"What did you do?" Michael asked after only a minute or two of Brian's snide commentary on Michael's side of the conversation, which had consisted of a cheerful mention of Hunter's wife's pregnancy, which was yet another dubious result, in Brian's opinion, of the wonders of modern medicine, and Michael's excitement over the release of a new comics anthology featuring Captain Astro and an essay that Michael and Ben had co-written before Ben's death.

"What makes you think I _did_ anything, Mikey?"

"Oh, _come on_, you call me and sound like you did when you were a kid and you needed a place to go, and you think I don't know that you did something?"

Brian snorted.

"Ted told me you proposed," Michael said.

"Remind me to fire him," Brian said.

"Yeah, you've been saying that since you actually _could_ fire him. So, for fuck's sake, what's the problem?"

"He said no."

"Well, no shit, he said no. Of course he said no. You're Brian Fucking Kinney and no matter how much you want to change that, you can't. Hell, don't you remember the little speech you gave me when Ben and I got married? We're queer! Blah blah blah, acrimonious divorce, your kid will hate you—"

"My kid already does hate me."

"Belle hates you?"

"_No_, Mikey, _my_ kid. Gus."

"Gus doesn't hate you, Brian."

"Well, he should."

Michael sighed and Brian could just imagine him standing in his well-lit kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, a furious frown bringing his eyebrows down, and looking for all the world like a ten year old. "Do you need a place to go? You can come here."

"Thanks, Mikey. That offer would be a little more appealing if it wasn't such a long fucking drive."

Michael was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment and then he started laughing. "Hey, do you remember that time Justin stole your credit card and took off for New York and we all took a road trip up to get him, and…"

"I remember."

"Jesus, he was just a kid!"

"Yeah," Brian sighed. It was kind of disturbing when he thought about how young Justin had been. How young and proud, how determined and fierce. He'd been impossible to keep out.

"Go home, dumbass." Michael was saying, "Just go home to your partner and tell him that you're sorry."

Brian lit a cigarette from a pack he'd bought on the way to the café. "And Gus?"

"Give it some time. He's a teenager. What do you expect? Jesus."

The bedroom was dark and Brian could see Justin's form making a big lump on his side of the bed. There was a smaller lump in the middle of the bed with long brown hair flung up over the pillow. Justin's eyes weren't shut as Brian slid into his side.

"Are you home?" Justin asked.

"Yeah," Brian said. "She okay?"

"Worried that you weren't coming back."

"Fuck."

"Yeah." Justin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sometimes this sucks, Brian."

Brian reached over, cupped his hand on Justin's face. Justin leaned in to kiss him, before pulling away, and settling in. Brian listened to Justin's breathing as they both dropped into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

  
The housewarming party for their official move from New York and Pittsburgh respectively to the countryside was a mess of family, art world hoity-toities, Kinnetik employees, and some of Brian's more intimate clients. Deb was dressed subtly for her, and not for the first time Brian thanked God that Emmett had taken over picking out Debbie's clothes. Carl escorted her proudly, chuckling over her foul-mouthed exclamations.

Lindsay and Mel had flown down with the children. Gus hadn't said a word to Brian since entering the house. Brian had been in the kitchen with Emmett dealing with a flambé emergency when Justin had let Gus in, and after seeing them in the living room, he'd approached nervously, but with a smile firmly on his face, determined to let his son be a teenager and to show that he was okay with that. After Lindsay's hug and Mel's handshake, he'd turned to greet Gus, who had managed to move across the room, avoiding Brian entirely. He got a hug from J.R. instead, who was wearing a dress, something he'd never witnessed before.

Lindsay took his arm, and guided him away from Mel, saying softly, "Give him time, Brian. He's fourteen."

Brian lifted his chin and said, "Ah, yes, fourteen," as though it were incredibly significant.

Lindsay took both of his arms in her hands, lifted her brown eyes up to his and murmured, "I know you're hurt, Brian. I can see it in your face. It's okay to feel that way, but don't let him get to you too deeply. You were a good dad to him in your own way. It's perfectly normal for children to begin to feel anger and grief for the parents they wish they'd had instead of the ones that they were given. He'll forgive you eventually, not that there is anything to forgive." Lindsay smiled softly. "Gus will come to understand in time."

"Don't be delusional."

She chuckled. "There you are. Good to see you're in there still." She kissed him and he held her close, smelling her hair. She was like vanilla, warm and sweet, and she always seemed so stable, and he wished he believed her, but he knew better. Fathers and sons—they don't forgive so much as lay down arms and walk away.

Lindsay left to help J.R. get a plate of hors d'oevrs, though Michael was already closing in, laughing to see his daughter wearing a dress. Brian sought out Gus, and found him in a corner, looking at one of the Michelle Phillipe-Rojer pieces that Justin had picked out from a gallery in Soho. Belle was standing next to him, coming up to his mid-thigh. She gazed up at Gus, her mouth moving in rapid-fire speech. As Brian approached, he heard her saying, "And we'll have horses, and I can have riding lessons. Do you like horses, Gus? I love horses."

Gus shrugged and didn't look down at her. She frowned, smoothed her curls, and then stamped on his foot hard.

"Hey!" Gus said, jumping away from her.

She smiled sweetly and said, "Do you like girls, Gus? 'Cause Daddy said some boys like girls."

Gus blinked at her and said, "Well, I don't like girls who stomp on my feet."

"Will you marry me when I grow up?"

Gus shrugged. "Sure. Why not."

"Really?"

"No."

Belle frowned and her lip trembled. "Why not? Do you like boys better?"

"What if I did?" Gus said, teasing.

"I could be your fag hag! Brian says I'm destined to be a fag hag!"

"You probably are. And I'm not gay. And I won't marry you. You're just a kid."

Belle batted her eyes in a way that gave Brian the willies. "But someday I'll be a grown-up girl, _just you wait_."

A horror rose in Brian, equal parts despair at how old he'd be one day, and an intense determination to prevent Belle from ever making those eyes at anyone again during his lifetime.

"You're weird," Gus said.

"I am not!"

"I'm not going to argue with you about it."

Brian bit his lip to keep from laughing at Belle's outraged expression, ridiculously cute on her five year old face, and moved in quickly. "Belle, I need to talk to Gus."

"But I was talking to him first. It's still my turn!"

"No, it's Brian's turn now." Brian cleared his throat. "It's my turn."

She took a deep breath and seemed ready to protest when Gus chimed in, "Look, Belle, Auntie Em is serving chocolate truffles."

Belle scampered off before Brian or Gus could say anything more. Brian said, "Hey," feeling more awkward with his son than usual. He didn't know if he could hug him, didn't know if he should say anything about their conversation, and he had no idea where to begin. "Your mothers tell me that you're getting straight A's this semester."

"Yeah," Gus said, smirking. "Who'd've thunk that the kid who had to attend special ed classes for the first four years of school would turn out an honors student."

Brian smiled and made a soft noise of affection.

"Dad…"

"Yeah?"

"It's a nice house."

"It's Justin's."

Gus nodded and they stood there in manly awkwardness for a few more minutes until Brian grabbed him in a hug. Gus patted his back and seemed less responsive than he had ever been before. "I'm going to get some chocolate before the kids eat it all," Gus said, pulling away. "See you later."

::::

At the end of the night, Gus had eluded being forced into any more contact with Brian, and, from what Brian could tell, behaved with cold politeness to Justin. Amazingly, though, he endured Belle's infatuation with more patience than necessary, something he clearly got from his mother's genes, because at his age, Brian would have shaken the little girl free hours ago, probably by making her cry.

Michael was one of the first to leave. The effort of making jolly and putting on a brave face so that everyone would think he was fine and wasn't still drowning in grief, seemed to wear him out, and Brian walked outside with him.

"There was a time," Michael was saying, as Brian rested his arms on Michael's shoulders, and pressed his forehead to Michael's. "There was a time when you would've vanished hours ago to go fuck some waiters in a hall-closet orgy, embarrassing the fuck out of everyone with all the sex noises coming from behind the closed door."

"If I closed the door," Brian said.

Michael laughed.

Brian kissed him, pressing their lips together for a long time. "Want me to ditch the prom and come home with you?"

Michael patted his cheek. "Hell, no. I'd have to deal with Justin tomorrow, and, besides, you'd make fun of me and call me pathetic when I started to cry my eyes out."

Brian smiled softly and kissed him again. Michael shoved him away. "Go, go inside to your wife and kid," he said, mocking Brian and smiling with love.

Brian wanted to ask him, "How the hell did this happen to me?" But he knew how, so he just smirked and waved as Michael got into the car. Turning around to go back in, he stopped in his tracks, Gus was standing on the front step listening, hurt and anger in his eyes. He stepped down and knocked on the window of Michael's car. "Can I come with you?"

"Gus," Brian began, but Gus cut him off, jumping into Michael's car and slamming the door.

::::

Justin and Belle were making short order of the leftover chocolates. Belle pretended that one was a car and another a truck, slamming them together with terrific violence, and then saying, "All dead. Now eat." Then she shoved them into her mouth and did it again.

Justin looked perplexed by this game, and a little concerned. Meghan, Belle's mother, had died in a car and pedestrian accident and Brian could see that Justin was already turning this strange flight of imagination into a reason to renew therapy for his daughter.

"It's just a game," Brian said, sitting down.

Justin scratched his ear absently, not taking his eyes from Belle and her chocolate carnage. "Maybe."

"Definitely. She's fine."

"Who's fine?" Belle asked.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Truck. Car. Boom! All dead. Now eat."

Justin looked at Brian and said, "How'd it go with Gus?"

"Not great."

"I'm going to marry Gus," Belle said, smashing the last two chocolates together.

Brian nodded and rubbed a hand on his chin. Justin said nothing, watching his daughter chew and swallow, like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

"He'll come around," Justin said, finally, sounding as unsure as Brian felt.

::::

Brian tucked his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, approached the construction site of the new Kinnetik offices, and ducked under a low-hanging beam. Rocco was there, waiting just like he'd said he would be, looking grimy and exhausted from his 24 hour Italian vacation.

"Do you have it?" Brian asked.

"Yes, Mr. Kinney."

"Good."

"They asked for more than you'd agreed on."

"Did you give it to them?"

"I didn't see what choice I had, sir."

Brian nodded, took the black package from Rocco's hands, and asked, "It's is in good condition, then?"

"As far as I can tell. But what do I know? I'm just your errand boy."

Brian rolled his eyes. "This isn't The Sopranos, Rocco."

Brian gave Rocco his fee and headed toward Babylon, entering through the back door and swinging into Natalie's office to check the contents of his package. It was perfect. Just as they'd discussed. He was pleased. He dialed the combination on the walk-in safe and placed the package several feet inside, before heading out to find the woman he left in charge of the place.

As usual, the dance floor was packed. Natalie was standing on the balcony above, surveying her kingdom, her arms spread out on the banister to encompass the entire room. Seeing Brian out of the corner of her eye, she said, "Hey, chief. The missus let you out for a bit of tom catting tonight?"

"I added to the safe."

"Ah, thanks for letting me know. I should probably get some extra security around here."

"Do what you think is best."

Natalie nodded as Brian watched the dance floor. It only took a few moments to find him, the kid known as "the new Brian Kinney" and it only took him a few seconds to know that it still hadn't happened for him, that the kid was still locked up in prison, and didn't even know it. It made him fucking sad.

"Are you ever gonna sell this place to me, or what?" Natalie asked, not for the first time.

Brian remained silent and just shrugged. He didn't know why he hadn't sold it to her already. He hardly ever went to the club anymore, he had no desire to really. He was too old to not look like an asshole when he played the over-the-hill-club-boy card.

"Let me guess, I should have the DJ cue up 'This Used to Be My Playground'," Natalie sneered. "Get over it. You're old. Sell me the place. I've got a cousin at the bank. She'll loan me $5,000,000."

Brian ignored her and nodded to a guy below who had been eyeing him since he arrived. A dark-haired guy, not too young, not too old, and Brian appreciated the excuse to get away from Natalie before she started breaking his balls. "Excuse me, but I do believe I've got some place to…" Brian nodded at the guy and smiled at Natalie.

"Go?"

"_Come_."

::::

It was the middle of May and Belle had eagerly agreed to stay the week before her fifth birthday with Grandma, especially since Justin had all but promised her a horse when she returned.

"But what about not spoiling her and making her live life like any other kid?" Brian asked, mocking Justin's previous efforts to get Brian to hold back on the gift giving.

"We have stables. We need a horse," was Justin's response.

Two days into their Belle-reprieve, they brought home a thirty-something couple and fucked them in the living room. Brian slumped down on the sofa while the younger of the two guys sucked his cock. Justin kneeled with his elbows on the coffee table, getting slammed hard from behind.

Brian watched through glazed eyes, the heat and suction on his dick a luscious counter-point to Justin's flushed chest and face. Justin's blue eyes sharp and hot, stared into Brian's when they weren't rolled up in his head.

Brian's gaze followed down Justin's arched back, up the torso of the guy fucking Justin, finding that the guy had his eyes closed and head back. Brian smirked, feeling sorry for the idiot who was missing out on the best part of fucking Justin--watching Justin _get fucked_.

Brian leaned his head back on the sofa, his gaze resting on Justin's face, and when Brian came, pumping down the anonymous throat, Justin licked his lips and came, too, spurting on the coffee table and groaning hard.

The next night they fucked a twink in their bedroom. The guy straddled Brian and rode him while Justin watched. Brian smirked when Justin bent the kid down, pushing until Brian's face was framed by the kid's elbows, and Justin climbed behind the kid, lifting his ass so that Brian's dick slipped out, and he shoved his own dick in. They slowly fucked the kid, sliding in and out of his ass in counter point. Justin pushed in and pulled out, and then Brian pushed in and out. The kid was going wild from it, his fingers scrabbling at the sheets, and pushing back greedily for any cock he could get.

Justin met Brian's eye and lifted an eyebrow, and Brian nodded. Justin took the head of Brian's cock in his hand lined it up next to his own, and then pushed them both into the spasming asshole. The kid shuddered, gasped, "Fuck," and shot his load during their first press into him.

"Don't stop," he said. "Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God."

Justin smiled down at Brian and they both thrust in and out as the kid shook and yelled in ecstasy.

Afterwards, sweaty and tired in their bed, Brian watched the twink getting dressed to meet his cab and said, "Belle needs to stay with her Grandmother more often," and Justin slapped his hand against Brian's chest and laughed, his hair still sweaty and dark against his head.

::::

The third night without a child in the house they watched the new hired hand, Eli, unload the horse Justin had bought for Belle. It was a filly and well-broken. The hand was to keep the barn in order, take care of the horse, and teach Belle to ride in exchange for a place to sleep in the living quarters above the barn. He was young, gorgeous, and totally heterosexual;, Brian had already determined that.

Justin stood with his hands on the fence watching Eli walk the horse around. "I'm going to let Belle name her."

"You think that's wise?" Brian asked incredulous. Justin was going to spend fifteen thousand dollars on this horse and then he was going to allow a five year old to name it?

"Well, probably not, but it is her present."

"Welcome to your new abode, Strawberry Shortcake," Brian said sarcastically.

"Yeah," Justin sighed. "Well, I suppose we can call her Straw."

"Or Short. Or Cake. Or Berry. Or Purple Pie Man."

Justin laughed. "I can't believe you know that."

"It is a burden that has plagued me nights, I assure you."

Justin laughed again and, after a telling moment, continued, "She might name it Gus, though. She asked me when he was going to be around again." Justin looked at him to see if he'd take the bait.

Brian didn't want to talk about it, because the truth was he hadn't talked to Gus in months now. It wasn't the first time that he'd gone so long without talking to Gus; there had been other times in his history of shitty fatherdom that he'd gone even longer. What made it different this time, though, wasn't that he'd forgotten or been to busy, no, this time his son wouldn't take his calls. Brian suspected that Justin knew that, so he just shrugged and leaned against the fence, keeping his eyes on the horse and Eli's muscled arms.

"What does Lindsay say about it?" Justin asked.

Brian shrugged. "The usual."

Justin sighed and they both watched Eli for a few minutes. "I've been thinking about some things, and we should talk" Justin finally said, his voice pitched low.

Brian lifted his eyebrows and waited, anxiety sliding under his skin.

"We haven't talked about these issues since we had that fight awhile back where you called me out on the fact that I'm afraid to marry you. And, for the record, I guess that I am, but you can't deny that I have very good reasons."

Brian pressed his lips together and nodded, watching Eli saddling the filly, his strong hands a good distraction.

Justin continued, "Here's the thing: it is important to me that you understand that this is your home. No matter what happens, this house is for us, for us to build a life together. That's the best commitment I can give right now and maybe ever." Justin paused and waited. The horse whinnied and pranced around while Eli held the reins. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Brian shrugged and shook his head. What was there to say? He'd known all of it from the first moment he saw the house.

"All right then," Justin said, moving closer, pressing against Brian's side, and reaching up to force Brian's eyes to his. "We're okay. This is going to work."

"Sure, Sunshine," Brian said, softly, suddenly remembering a time when his mother had put her arm around him in the pew at church and whispered in his ear that everything would be all right. He also remembered the way the stained glass had colored the bright white of his new cast and the dull, endless ache of the broken arm.

Justin pushed onto his tiptoes and Brian kissed his soft, warm lips, and hugged him tight. "I love you, Brian. I love you."

Brian pressed his nose to Justin's neck and breathed in, the sweet smell of Justin's skin replacing the scent of the early spring field, and the horse feed that Eli had begun unloading from the back of a truck.

::::

Brian woke later that night to find the bedside lamp was on. He rolled a little to turn it off and saw Justin propped up on his elbow, Justin's cupped palm supported his head, studying Brian with wide, intense eyes.

Brian rubbed the sleep from his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was nearly four in the morning. "What's wrong?"

Justin shook his head and smiled softly. "Why don't you tell me?"

Confused, Brian sat up and scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to wake up. "Is it Belle?"

"Belle is fine," Justin whispered. "She's at my mom's, remember?"

Brian leaned back against his pillow and looked around the room. Justin's red sweater was hanging on the back of the chair by the desk, and Justin's white tennis shoes were sitting next to the bookcase; the right one turned out from the left in third position like a disembodied ballerina stood there.

Brian cleared his throat. "Wanna fuck?"

Justin chuckled. "Sure. After you tell me what's wrong."

"What the fuck, Sunshine. I was asleep. How can anything be wrong?" Brian leaned over and rolled Justin onto his back, pressing his already heavy erection against Justin's thighs. "The only thing better than sleeping is fucking you."

Justin smirked and Brian was pleased when Justin's hand wrapped around Brian's cock and started to move slowly up and down.

"While I'm sure that's true, I'd like to know what's _wrong_. You haven't seemed happy. We should be happy. Why aren't we happy?"

Brian closed his eyes and pressed into Justin's strokes, nosing Justin's hair, and wrapping his arms around Justin's shoulders, pulling him close. "I'm happy right now."

"Brian—"

Brian kissed Justin's mouth, the soft lips warm against his own, and Justin's tongue still sweet from the toothpaste he'd used before bed. Brian kept his eyes open, and Justin's lashes fluttered against his cheekbones before they lifted and hot blue eyes pierced Brian with emotion so strong that he was tempted to lower his own lashes so that Justin wouldn't see his response, but he didn't. Justin gasped and wrapped his arms around Brian so tightly that he almost couldn't move.

"Brian," Justin whispered. "I love you. Tell me you know how much."

Brian kissed him again and thrust his hips hard, grabbed Justin's thighs and pushed Justin's knees up to his chest.

"Tell me," Justin asked again. "Tell me you know how much I love you. I want to hear it."

Brian rolled on the condom and flipped open the lid of the lube. Justin's eyes burned bright, and Brian didn't wait, thrusting in to Justin's hot, tight ass, groaning as Justin lifted to meet him. Brian thrust in deep, held, and threw his head back for a moment gathering himself, and then he looked down and gazed at Justin's flushed face, so expressive in lust, so open in desire.

Brian set a hard and fast rhythm that kept Justin grunting and unable to speak further. Justin's hand clutched his own cock, working it as Brian fucked him.

"I don't know how much you love me, Justin, but it doesn't fucking matter, because I love you enough for both of us."

Justin's face contorted and he shook his head. Brian didn't know if it was an attempt not to come or a disagreement with what Brian had said, but he didn't ask, lowering his head and burying his face in Justin's neck, pressing kisses along the sensitive skin, and bringing his own knees up to cradle Justin's hips as Brian slammed into him, carrying both of them to orgasm.

::::

"You know, we can just keep on pretending like there's not a problem between us, or we can talk this out," Justin said the next morning, taking another bite of cereal.

Brian looked up from the paper and took a sip of his guava juice. He'd been expecting this, waiting for it, even. This was, he supposed, what mature people in a committed relationship _did_. He snapped the paper closed and leaned forward, putting on his most intimidating 'this is business' face. "Fine, Sunshine. You want to know why I'm not one big rolling orgasm of happiness?"

Justin, tense and avid, put down his spoon, and focused on Brian's face. "Yes. I do."

Brian swallowed the last of his juice, stood up, and added the glass to the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. He paused, leaned against the kitchen island, and looked out the window at Belle's new horse grazing in the field.

"Well," Justin said. "You're scaring me. Say something."

Brian shook his head, smiling mirthlessly, and lowered his head, looking at the floor. "Welcome to my fucking life, Sunshine."

"What do you mean?"

"You've been scaring me for months. Ever since you bought this place. Ever since you backed out on your promise to marry me."

  
Justin's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "This is about me not marrying you? I thought we were clear on that."

"Far from it," Brian said, rubbing his hands together and glancing at the clock. He was going to be late. He'd have to call his new assistant, whatever the fuck his name was, and tell him to let the Nike Athletics reps that Brian was supposed to meet with know that he'd be arriving a little off schedule. Cynthia would have it under control. Good old Cynthia.

Justin stood up and walked toward him, his hands already reaching out, and his mouth open in preparation to start talking.

"In what way aren't we clear? I've told you that I'm committed to us, that this house is your home, that we're going to die together. Why the fuck do we need rings and someone pronouncing us husband and husband to make what we have any more real than it is?"

Brian shook his head in disbelief. "If that's the way you feel about it, why not just marry me? You act as though we're already married, but this house doesn't have my name on it. This isn't really my home. Belle isn't really my daughter."

Justin couldn't have possibly appeared more outraged. "What are you saying?"

"For all that you claim we're partners, it sure as hell feels a lot more like I'm a hanger on, looking at the happy little Taylor family from the outside. Fucking Daddy so he feels good, and picking up baby girl from school, and putting on a bandaid or two like a fucking friend of the family. That's what I'm saying, Sunshine."

"Because I won't marry you?"

"Not marrying me is just another fucking symptom," Brian said, shoving away from the counter, straightening his tie, and grabbing his briefcase. He checked the clasp to make sure it was locked, and started toward the garage door.

"You're _leaving_?" Justin asked.

"I'm going to work," Brian said. "I'm not leaving. I'll be back tonight." He stopped with his hand on the door and turned back to where Justin stood with his arms wrapped around his chest, looking shocked and pissed. "You asked."

Justin blinked and licked his lips. Brian let go of the door, closed the distance between them, kissed Justin hard, and said, "I meant what I said last night, too. Did you hear what I said to you?"

Justin nodded.

"You won't be getting rid of me, you little shit."

Brian headed back to the garage door and exited, climbed into his latest pleasure vehicle, and turned the key. Justin lingered in the doorway, watching as Brian backed up. Brian didn't know what to make of their conversation. He felt strangely peaceful instead of knotted up inside. Now it was up to Justin to resolve why the fuck he was holding Brian at arm's length.


	3. Chapter 3

That evening, Justin approached Brian where he was standing by the barn watching the new filly prance in the evening sun.

"Hey," Justin said, softly.

"Hey."

"Brian," Justin said, taking his arm and turning Brian to face him. "I've been giving it some thought…"

Brian lifted his eyebrow and waited.

Justin dropped to his knees beside him, and Brian murmured, "Thanks for the offer, normally I'd love a blow job, but I'm spent."

"I think you should marry me," Justin said, taking a box from his pocket, and opening it. It held the rings that Brian had bought at Christmas.

Brian looked at the glinting rings and then back to the sunset glowing red and strong on the horizon.

"Brian, please look at me," Justin said.

Brian laughed in soft disbelief. He turned to Justin who was looking up at him earnestly. Brian said, "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

Justin stood up, slapped Brian's chest, and said, "Jerk. God, now that I'm the one asking I feel like a total shit for making you wait and vacillating about it all. I'm shaking here, Brian."

And he was. Brian saw how he trembled all over and he reached out, pulled Justin close, and steadied him. "Why?" he asked, pressing his lips to Justin's ear, kissing gently.

"You were right. I was holding back. It's just that…" Justin sighed and snapped the box closed, pulling away from Brian and looking at the horse. Eli would be out soon to take the filly in for the night. Brian hoped that he stayed away long enough for them to finish the conversation and not have to make pleasantries. "Do you remember months ago when we were still in New York and you said that maybe the man I loved didn't exist anymore?"

Brian nodded, anxiety creeping in for the first time since he'd laid it all out on the breakfast table, so to speak.

"Well, I guess that was true in a way that it took me a long time to understand. You aren't the guy that I left ten years ago, are you? That man is gone, and it took me a long time to figure out that some of the things that I fucking hated back then, or things that had plagued me as unacceptable for a long term partner, were, in some ways, things that I loved about you."

Brian nodded, thrusting his bottom lip out, and shrugging a little. He understood that. There had been this kid once, this beautiful blond boy who had won his heart against his will, and then that kid got hit in the head, and he was different after that, and to this day he still missed the innocence that Justin had once had.

"So, this morning, when you threw in my face that it was me doing this to us, I realized that it was true. I was fucking shocked. It had been _me_ and I hadn't even known." Justin gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"You thought it was me."

"Well, yeah," Justin said, grinning. "Who else? I mean, have you met me? I'm incredibly mature, emotionally resilient, and extremely well-adjusted. How could it be me?" He laughed and Brian smiled.

"And I'm the emotionally stunted club boy."

"No, you're not. But I kept forgetting. It was stupid. For a genius, I can be completely idiotic."

"Emotionally well-adjusted and modest, too."

Justin laughed again. "The whole package!"

"I love your package," Brian said, closing in and running his hand across Justin's crotch.

Justin rolled his eyes, grabbed Brian's collar and pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you, Brian. I love _you_. This you and that old you, too. I want to marry you. " Justin lifted up the box and said, "So…will you?"

Brian took the box from Justin's hand, slid a ring on his finger and then on Justin's, saying, "It's about time you made an honest man of me."

Justin's smile was huge and Brian couldn't help but grin in response, grabbing Justin close, and burying his nose in Justin's hair. He was moving to kiss him, when Justin pulled back, and said, "Also, Brian, I'd like you to see a family law attorney with me and adopt Belle. I want you to be her father."

Brian felt an icy hand clamp down on his heart and he swallowed hard, looking down, and blinking rapidly. He remembered his father's fist, and the bruised face in the mirror, and the first time he'd been fucked, how the bruises on his ribs had ached under his gym teacher's strong hands. A flash of rage filled him.

"Brian?" Justin asked. "You aren't having doubts? Belle is part of this. You knew that."

Brian smiled, his throat tight and his heart pounding, cold sweat collecting on his forehead. He pushed the anger down, he took a shaky breath, and said on the exhale, "Doubts? Not a one."

Justin kissed him and when Eli came out to put the filly in the barn for the night, Brian noticed that he studiously did not look in the direction of his employers rolling in the grass by the fence.

::::

In the bathroom mirror that night, Brian examined the bruises on his ribs. He was getting too old to fuck on the ground. His muscles ached and his knees were bruised. He could see Justin's reflection in the mirror, getting into bed in their room in the bedroom, putting on a pair of reading glasses, and grabbing his PDA from the bedside table and checking email.

Brian looked in the mirror, appalled by the man looking back. He knew it could be worse, but this guy was old. He wouldn't have fucked this old bastard when he was Justin's age. He began to apply his night cream. The scent of it was familiar but he'd never been able to place it. It made him feel safe and he didn't know why. It made him feel warm and good, the way he felt when Justin looked at him, or the way he felt when Belle held his hand, or kissed him goodnight.

The thought of Belle brought him up short, his hand poised with the cream on his right cheek, and he stared into his own eyes in the mirror. Justin wanted him to be Belle's father. There were reasons he'd never been a real father to his son, there were reasons why the word itself filled him with anger, and those reasons included memories that surfaced at the wrong times, and rejection that had etched itself into him at such a young age that he didn't even know if he'd ever been like Belle, confident of her place in this world, pure in her expectations of love and kindness.

He rubbed the night cream in, and tried to shove the thoughts aside, but the anxiety that had burned into him didn't dispel. He could feel it in him like a presence, like a demon, twisting under his skin, and it made him want to run, or kick something, or punch someone. He shuddered, sensing the closeness of his father's ghost This was what he avoided. This is what he feared. This is what he'd tried to fuck out of his system for thirty years.

"Brian?" Justin called from the bed. "Are you coming to bed?"

Brian wondered if he could get his dick up again tonight. If he could fuck Justin, then he could stop this crazy feeling. He stroked his cock slowly, but nothing happened.

He heard Justin slide out of bed and the soft pad of bare feet. "Brian?"

Brian looked from his cock to the mirror, seeing Justin leaning naked in the doorway. Looking down at his cock with desperation, Brian sucked his lips between his teeth in frustration, and said, "I'm going to go for a run."

Justin, flabbergasted, said, "Now? It's nearly midnight."

"Now."

"Is everything okay?"

Brian shrugged. "Right as rain. I just need to work off that dessert. You don't want a porker for a bridegroom do you?"

Justin watched Brian pull on some dark green running shorts, and then threw up his hands. "Okay, when you get back, though, you should tell me what the fuck is going on."

Brian pulled on socks and running shoes, and ran out of the room, jogging down the stairs, and through the front door. The breeze was freedom in his hair and on his face, cooling him down, and the motion killed the demon inside with each thud of his foot on the ground.

Crawling into bed after two in the morning, still wet from his shower, Justin curled up beside him and murmured, "Feel better?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, let's get some sleep."

::::

  
Belle noticed the rings immediately when Brian and Justin picked her up from Jennifer's house.

"You're wearing a ring," Belle said, taking her father's hand in her own, and studying the platinum on his finger.

Jennifer looked up from where she was sorting through the notes she'd taken during Belle's stay. She liked to provide Justin with a written run down of the days she kept Belle, including what Belle had eaten, what time she went to bed, and a selection of the funniest things Belle had said.

"I am," Justin agreed, and knelt to his daughter's level.

Brian saw Jennifer's eyes swivel toward Brian's left hand and he brought it to his chin, scratching there, and allowing her to see that he was wearing one, too. Jennifer's hand came up to her mouth, and she turned her back for a moment, announcing that she was going to get some water from kitchen, and would they like any as well? She didn't wait for an answer, though, leaving the room immediately.

"Do you like it?" Justin asked Belle. She shrugged her small shoulders and ran her finger over it. "Belle, how do you feel about Brian being part of our family?"

She looked at Justin in confusion. "I like it. He's a good Beast."

Justin smiled and Brian knelt down, too, and pulled Belle into his lap. Justin, Brian, and Belle sat on the floor together as Belle examined Brian and Justin's hands.

"Belle," Justin began. "Brian and I want to be together forever."

"And me, too?" she asked.

"Of course. Honey, Brian and I want to know if you'd like him to adopt you," Justin said, softly.

Brian tightened his jaw. He didn't know what he feared more: that Belle would agree, or that she'd reject him, her innocent judgment infinitely wise.

She looked confused, so Brian said, breathless and tense, "We want you to be my little girl, too. Is that okay with you?"

Belle looked up at him, stood up from his lap; first she put her hands on Brian's face, and then wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a hug. "I _am_ your little girl, Brian," she said, her tone making it clear that in her opinion Brian and her daddy were being very silly.

Brian shoved down his reservations as Justin took his hand. The three of them sat on Jennifer's kitchen floor, their arms around each other, until Belle announced, "I want to go home. I want to see my horse!"

::::

Belle's fifth birthday was held at the Liberty Diner at her request. Deb closed the diner in the evening, making it a private party, but so many queers and dykes had tried to open the door before they realized that the diner was closed, that Deb finally just left the doors open and extra guests wandered in and out until the cake was gone.

The guest list was extensive: the entire family of course, including Teddy and Blake, Emmett and Drew, Michael, Hunter and his wife, their new baby, and half a dozen kids from the pre-school Justin had been taking Belle to three days a week since the move.

"It's important that she make friends and feel like she fits in," Justin had said.

"Yeah, because a little girl with a dead mommy and two daddies isn't a square peg in a round hole from the outset," Brian had rejoined, and Justin had ignored him.

Brian was unsurprised that only three kids from the preschool came to the party. The twenty minute drive to Pittsburgh being the least of the deterrents once the parents realized that Liberty Diner was on Liberty Avenue. Belle didn't seem disappointed, however, because her best new friend Kimmy and her two mothers showed up, and her friend Jackson, the boy who rivaled Gus for Belle's affections, and his parents also came.

The diner was a riot of balloons and decorations that declared the word FIVE with multiples of exclamation points and rainbow colors. The cook served up rainbow shaped pancakes for the kids, and Brian watched the other parents in amusement as their expressions shifted into horror as they realized the amount of sugar their kids would be consuming so late in the evening. Brian doubted that he and Justin were making any friends with their fellow parents tonight.

"Linds and Mel were really sad that they couldn't make it down," Michael said, looping his arm through Brian's and smiling. His face was more lined than it had been just a year ago, wrinkles and gray hair the outward manifestation of his sorrow. "You need to call Gus, Brian. Lindsay says he's been moody and distant ever since you moved in with Justin. Ben would have said he needs a little reassurance that he's still important in your life. I think he just needs a dad."

"He won't take my calls," Brian said, fingering the ring on his finger, and watching from the corner he occupied with Mikey as Belle started to unwrap her gift from Debbie and Carl.

"No shit?"

"No shit."

Belle held up a purple t-shirt that read, "Hung Like A Five Year Old Girl". Brian heard the gasps and murmurs of the other parents in the room.

Michael called out, "Mom! For fuck's sake!"

The parents gasped again.

Carl said, "Deb, honey, I'm not sure that's entirely appropriate."

"Oh, fuck appropriate, Carl. It'll be cute on her!"

Belle pointed at each of them and called out, "You all owe me money for saying that word!" Then she slowly sounded out the words on the t-shirt. "What does that mean?"

Justin took it from her hand and folded it up. "I'll explain later. Deb, thank you."

Emmett asked from where he was sitting a few feet away at the counter, "So, really, Gus hasn't taken your calls, honey? Because Mel seems to think you're in la-la-love land or something and just haven't called."

"That's what she told me, too," Ted piped up from where he'd suddenly appeared at Brian's elbow, eating cake from a pink paper plate.

"Of course he's fucking called," Michael said, crossing his arms over his chest. "He just fucking said so."

Brian rolled his eyes and shoved away from the wall, ignoring them all, and crossing over to lean against the end of the counter closest to the door. Belle was opening another package from a friend. A Barbie with long hair and paint brushes which apparently could be used to temporarily color the doll's hair pink, blue, or green.

The door chimed and Brian looked over, surprised to see Natalie coming in with the "new Brian Kinney" slinking behind her. He looked anxious and even a little sick. Natalie came to a full halt, a look of confusion on her face as she took in Belle in her birthday hat, the balloons, and the happy birthday signs.

"Private party, honey!" Deb called out cheerfully, waving at Natalie. "But come on in and have some cake." Brian watched as Deb crossed over, gently slapping the "new Brian Kinney" on the face and saying, "Especially you, Travis, you look like a fucking skeleton."

Travis looked around the room, a sneer of disgust on his face, and he shook his head. "Kiddie parties aren't my scene."

"Could've fooled me," Natalie muttered. Travis shot her a pissed off look, and she continued, "Keep that kid out of Babylon, Travis. I don't want to see him there again."

Brian fingered his ring and watched with interest as Travis gritted his teeth together and spat out, "He's not my fucking boyfriend. Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"I didn't say that. I said I don't want to see him in my fucking club." She turned to Brian. "Right, boss?"

Brian lifted his chin in silent agreement, and Travis ran his eyes over Brian, and then looked around the diner at the party again. Belle held up her latest gift and screeched, "Brian, look! A pony just like Strawberry!"

Brian lifted his pink paper cup that held only punch in a toast and smiled at her. She had already moved on. Travis exhaled in disgust and shook his head. Brian could read the question in Travis's eyes: "What the fuck happened to you, Brian Kinney?"

Justin, standing at Belle's side, helping with the wrapping paper looked up and caught Brian's eye, smiled wide, and Brian warmed inside. That's what happened to him. He remembered the taste of Justin's lips that morning after they'd both had their morning coffee, and the sweet feel of Belle's hand in his as he and Justin had taken her down to meet the filly, (who had been named Strawberry Shortcake, just as he'd expected), and he felt good. He suspected that the feeling was called happiness and it felt a lot better than anything had ever felt when he was Travis's age.

When Brian looked away from Justin's brightness, Deb was shoving cake into Travis's hand and commanding him to eat it. Natalie was already taking large bites from her own plate. Travis looked at the cake, looked around the room, and then met Brian's eye. He sat the plate on the counter and walked out.

"He's a shit," Natalie said. "And a pain in my ass. He's got a little stalker. I don't think they're an item, but the kid doesn't give up easily. The last thing we need is to get busted with an underage kid in the club. They'd shut the place down and seize everything just because they can. That'd be a disaster. Especially with all that we've got in the safe right now."

Brian shook his head and sliced his hand at his throat in the universal sign for cut it out. Natalie smiled. "Oh, yes, the big secret from the missus. I nearly forgot."

Brian narrowed his eyes in a glare and looked around to see if anyone had caught their exchange. Luckily, it appeared that everyone was busy shoving cake into their pie holes.

Belle called out to him. "Brian, come here!" She was plowing through a piece of birthday cake and had it all over her face. Jennifer approached with a napkin in her hand, but Belle waved her off. "Brian, come here! It's important!" Belle ordered.

"Better hurry, boss," Natalie said.

Brian shoved off of the counter and crossed to squat next to Belle who placed two sticky hands on either side of his face. "I saved my rose for you. Here." And she let go with one hand, scooped the icing rose up, and shoved it into his half-open mouth. It tasted unbelievably sweet.

::::

After Brian put Belle to bed, well past her bedtime, and after looking through her My Little Pony book five times at her insistence, Brian stood in Belle's door, studying her hair spread out over the pillow, her lashes splayed out on her cheeks, and her mouth relaxed into a soft, happy smile.

There was a time in his life when this wasn't something he'd ever wanted. He'd have laughed at anyone who said that he would. He shook his head, remembering how this would've seemed like such a cop out to him then, remembering how he'd been merciless with Michael, nearly losing his friendship, when he'd opted for a settled life in the suburbs with Ben. "We're queer. We fuck," he'd said. He'd thought Michael was weak, that he'd bought into society's bullshit about families and love, but now here he was looking at a little sleeping miracle and digging deep into his soul for the courage to be her _father_.

Father—it was a concept that he didn't fully understand. His own had been a poor example and his second family, Michael's family, had been lacking in that particular commodity. When he'd held Gus the night he was born, something had stirred in him that he'd never anticipated. It was love, and a determination that he'd never be the kind of father he'd had, and he hadn't been. No, he'd never been there in Gus's face, yelling at him with alcohol on his breath. No, he'd not held Gus's mother by the throat, up against a wall, while she struggled to breathe. He'd never slapped Gus's sister, or pounded Gus with his fists until he was crying and begging for him to stop. He'd managed to do none of those things. He'd never even wanted to. He was not like his father.

What had he done? He'd gone to a few baseball games over the years, made passing phone calls, and visited when Lindsay called and said he should. He'd pretty much been absent.

Brian watched Belle's breaths even out and knew she was asleep. Her fingers curled on the pillow by her head. When he'd been a child, he'd slept with his head under the covers. He felt safer that way. Belle sprawled on her bed, legs spread and arms out, mouth open, as confident in her sleep as she was when awake.

He'd be there for her, that's what he was promising. He had an understanding of what that commitment meant, a deeper understanding than Justin or Lindsay probably imagined. He knew all too well the difficulties of being a parent—his own folks had made them clear to him loudly and often. What he didn't know, and was going on faith, was how deep the rewards would be. He had an inkling—a small version of what he could expect in the quiet happiness and crazy amusement that filled him when Belle spoke to him earnestly, gazing into eyes, and imparting the wisdom of a five year old. "Brian, dogs eat cat poop sometimes. Did you know that?"

He snorted remembering that conversation and Belle's serious and yet gleeful discussion of the apparent merits of cat shit to the doggie palate. She was too smart for her own damn good. No child should talk about the tastiness of proteins in cat crap.

When it had come to Gus, Brian had been uncommitted. He'd handed over the reins and walked away. He'd made uncredited guest appearances and called himself satisfied with that interaction. And he had been. It had been so much easier. He had never had to put someone else first: he could party, fuck, and do drugs without any true recourse to anyone but himself. But this—what he was doing with Belle and Justin, it was a commitment that had no foreseeable end. It took away options that he'd never even realized that he kept in the back of his mind. Scarfing? Driving off of a cliff before his next milestone birthday? Risks that he'd taken or thought of taking in the past without hesitation would be off limits to him, because he was responsible for someone else now. He was responsible for a small girl with no mother and a father who needed him, too.

Brian quoted under his breath, "That's why I take good care of myself, watch out where I'm going and fear that any drop of rain might kill me."

He shook off his reverie and closed Belle's bedroom door softly, taking the back stairs down to the kitchen. He found Justin standing in front of the big picture window overlooking the purple ragged robin flowers that had raced through the fields in the last week, his back to the room, and something flat and white in his left hand.

"Justin?"

Justin turned around his face alert and a smile immediately on his lips. "Let's get to bed. Tomorrow will be a long day—" He walked past Brian and toward the stairs, still grasping the letter in his hand.

Brian grabbed his arm and swung him around. Justin's body was tense and his expression surprised. Immediately, Justin tried to pass it off with a chuckle, but before Justin could say something that would be a further attempt to conceal whatever was bothering him, Brian took the letter out of his hand, and held it out of Justin's reach.

"What's this, Sunshine?"

"It's..." Justin sighed and Brian felt Justin's body relax in defeat, slumping against Brian's side. "It's a letter from Meg's parents."

Brian looked at the return address, a good one in Connecticut. Meg's parents. He hadn't even thought of them and now he wondered why. Meg had always existed in his mind, and in Justin's descriptions of her, as a free-standing, independent woman, with no ties except those she made on her own. For these reasons, Brian had assumed that Meg's parents were dead.

"They want to see Belle," Justin said, his voice weary. He rubbed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Brian's chest. "Fuck, sometimes it seems like if it isn't one thing it's another."

Brian knew exactly what he meant, and the tension when he'd first walked into the room coupled with the tone of Justin's voice raised his hackles. Brian put his hands on Justin's shoulders and searched his face. "So?"

"So, they want to see her."

"And?" Brian ducked his head to keep Justin's eye contact.

"God, it's a long story. I don't even know where to begin…" Justin looked off to the side, gathering his thoughts, and began to talk. "Meg's parents…well, they've seen Belle exactly once, when she was four months old. Meg was hoping for a reconciliation with them, like all kids, like I used to with my dad, and thought maybe if they saw Belle, they'd come around and accept her for who she was, and not keep trying to turn her into the Baptist suburban housewife they'd hoped she'd be."

Brian steered Justin to the kitchen table and sat him down, turning to the refrigerator and opening a bottle of water for each of them. When Brian sat down and slid the second bottle to Justin across the short distance of the table, Justin continued, "They're not evil, or, well, no more evil than your average conservative, religious, nouveau riche assholes—"

"That's pretty fucking evil."

"Yeah, well, Meg was their only child and they had everything pinned on her. You'd think they'd be happy with her level of success, but they couldn't accept that she was a lesbian. They kicked her out of the house when she was eighteen, after trying to send her to one of those camps where they brainwash you straight, and she headed out to Hollywood where she got discovered. She made her way despite them and to spite them. They knew that."

Brian nodded.

"I met them only once. It was by accident. Meg and I were in a café in New York, she was about eight months pregnant, and we were holding hands, looking through baby name books and joking about awful names." Justin paused and swallowed hard, grief marking his face the way it always did when he spoke about Meg. They might not have been lovers, but they'd shared something just as intimate, maybe more so.

"All of a sudden, this older couple was standing next to us. The woman was like, 'Meaghan, darling? Is that you? Is this your husband?' God, it was awkward. Meg looked like New York City was collapsing around us. She was that freaked out. Her father was this big guy and he towered over us both. He figured it out before the mother did. His face when he realized…I don't know that I've seen anything uglier than that, and I've seen a lot of ugly things in my life."

Baseball bats and blood flashed in Brian's mind and he pushed the thought away.

"I thought he'd hit her, but he didn't. He said, 'Your soul is lost and you are condemned to hell,' and then he took his wife's hand and pulled her out of the café. Meg broke down. The paparazzi had a field day, taking dozens of photos of her sobbing as we walked back to her apartment. The vultures. I hated them. The paparazzi, Meg's parents—hated them." Justin sighed.

"Belle won't be seeing them," Brian stated.

Justin looked up gratefully. "Thank you."

"What the fuck are you thanking me for?"

"For being exactly what I need."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot. The answer is obvious."

"Yeah, but they're her grandparents, a link to her mother, and I thought—"

"It doesn't matter. She won't be seeing them."

Justin relaxed and put his head down on the table taking deep breaths. Brian rubbed the back of Justin's neck with one hand and took a sip of water with his other.

"God, it feels good to share the responsibility," Justin murmured.

"That's why I'm here," Brian answered, gently stroking the soft, short hairs on Justin's neck, listening to the soft tick-tock of the clock over the kitchen sink.


	4. Chapter 4

The family lawyer that they spoke with was optimistic that the adoption could take place quickly, just as soon as Brian and Justin were legally wed. Brian stood with his back to the attorney and Justin, gazing out across the Pittsburgh skyline, shaking his head over all of it: the fact that gays had been granted the right to marry three years prior, the fact that he, Brian Kinney, was happily joining the masses of queers who indulged in heteronormative life choices like marriage, and the fact that he was adopting a child, taking on the responsibility of a full parent.

A wave of nausea broke over him when he realized that if something happened to Justin, Belle would be entirely his child to deal with. He ran a hand over his face and straightened his shoulders. Christ, what a fucking bad idea this was.

"Brian?" Justin asked, indicating the agreement that would make Adam Shapirowitz their attorney in these matters.

Brian put a smile on over his anxiety and turned around. He signed despite the cold sweat trickling down his back and the terror that thundered in his heart.

As they left Shapirowitz's office, Justin took Brian's hand, and said, "Now, should we get married in the gazebo in the backyard surrounded by friends and family, or do we hit the minister of the peace?"

Brian smirked, and said, "My mother would be devastated if I didn't wear her wedding dress."

Justin laughed. "So would mine. A real wedding it is, then."

"Is that what you want?" Brian asked.

Justin shrugged. "I guess, sure. Why not share our happiness with everyone else? They deserve it."

"For all the years they said it couldn't work. We'll show them a wedding they won't forget."

"Brian," Justin said, softly. "You're the only one who ever really said that, you know."

"Well, then…let's show me."

Justin squeezed his hand and Brian's heart raced, and another drop of sweat rolled down his back.

On their way home, they stopped by the new Kinnetik offices to look over the construction, and as Brian stood on a beam, high above the ground, the wind whipping around him, he recalled a night on a hospital roof, and how he'd been scared shitless of the ticking time bomb of a baby Lindsay had given birth to.

He looked at Justin, the wind in his hair, and wondered how he was going to tell that baby now grown into a pseudo-man, that he was getting married, that he was adopting Belle, and that he was sorry but he couldn't punish himself forever, no matter how much Gus wanted him to do just that. Christ, he was still scared of that kid.

::::

Brian sat at his desk reviewing the proposal for Simply Orange orange juice, finding it rather…simple. He marked a few changes and looked up in surprise when the door to his office opened without warning. Justin entered with Brian's new assistant on his heels.

"So sorry, Mr. Kinney, he just walked by and—"

"Get out," Brian said, rolling his eyes. This one was incompetent, too. He vowed never to promote himself out of an assistant again.

"Certainly, Mr. Kinney, I'll just escort him out and—"

"Not him. You."

"Not him?"

Could he really be so fucking dumb? "Yes, not him. He's my fiancé. Do you need me to spell that?"

"Oh, no sir. I'm sorry."

"Yes, you are. You're fired. Before you go send in Cynthia and ask her to get me another round of resumes."

The kid left the room, his face fallen and his eyes shocked.

Brian called after him, "And tell her to make sure that this set contains a candidate or two that _aren't_ absolute idiots."

Justin waggled his eyebrows and fought laughter. "Hot."

"This is the third time he's pissed me off today. Earlier he brought me an apple that had a wormhole in it."

Justin's eyes widened in mock horror. "Oh, he should be spitted over an open fire."

Brian lifted the offending apple from his desk and mimed shoving it in the kid's open mouth.

Justin sat on the corner of his desk, eyes sparkling, and said, "Guess what?"

"Tom Cruise came out."

"No. But that's got to happen any day now. He's an old fuck, what does he really have to lose?"

"Hey, he's not that much older than me."

"Exactly," Justin said, grinning wickedly. "So, guess again."

Brian flipped Justin off and rolled his eyes. "I'm busy, Sunshine. I've got this little thing called _running a fucking multimillion dollar business_ to do, so I don't have time for party games."

Justin pulled the Simply Orange boards across the desk and smirked. "Oh, yeah, I see you're doing some mentally intensive work here, really exercising those aging brain cells."

Brian grabbed the boards back from him. "Did you come here to piss me off or do you have something to say?"

"I have something to say." Justin stood up and stuck his hands in his pockets, his grin just short of shit-eating. "Guess what?"

Brian groaned and leaned back in his chair.

"Okay, fine. Simone called me," Justin said. "And my next show has been booked for months in advance, but, get this, it has completely sold out in advance. Sold. Sight unseen. Do you realize what this means?"

"You're making a shitload more cash that you don't need?"

"Yes, and it means that I'm selling art before I even paint it. Do you realize that this is every artist's dream? This is _it_, Brian. I've made it."

Brian thought about the hundreds of millions of dollars Justin had raked in from the Rage movies, comics, and merchandise. He thought about the untold amounts that Justin had made from his earlier shows. He didn't feel the need to point out the obvious: Justin had "made it" years ago.

"Congratulations, Sunshine. Now you can buy Harvard to make sure Belle gets in."

"She's going to Yale," Justin countered, smiling. "Anyway, Simone told me that there's a collector who has been buying all of the _Life_ series, paying huge sums of cash for every painting, driving up interest in my work, and pushing up the price of each individual piece. Can you believe it?"

Brian looked away from Justin's happy face, a rush of adrenaline shooting through him. "What's not to believe?"

"So, in addition to having sold out before I've even hung the work, everything has sold for nearly double what they would have gone for before. It's…amazing. Aren't you amazed?"

"Truly. Deeply." Brian blinked and shook his head, opening another file on his desk at random, having no clue what was inside but wanting to look busy.

"So, want to cut out of here to celebrate?"

Brian smiled and put the file aside. Fucking was always the best distraction. "Take your pants off."

Justin rolled his eyes. "Brian, I meant go to dinner. Have drinks."

"Absolutely. After you take your pants off." Brian stood up and slowly circled the desk, tugging on his tie to loosen it. "I'd like to examine your ass, Mr. Taylor. Disrobe and bend over."

"Let me guess, your fingers are too short," Justin said, laughing as he worked on his top button. "So you're going to have to put something a little bigger in there to find what you're looking for."

Brian scoffed. "Excuse me. Don't you mean a _lot_ bigger."

Justin approached with his pants undone and pulling his shirt over his head. "Oh, yes, _much_ bigger. So much bigger."

Brian smirked and grabbed him close. As he mouthed Justin's neck, he couldn't help but laugh when Justin said, "Mr. Kinney, can't I just fill out the application for the assistant position? Is this truly necessary to evaluate my typing skills?"

"Let's make sure you're right for the job before we go to all of that trouble."

Justin slid to his knees and Brian leaned back against his desk as the familiar wet warmth engulfed his cock. Too bad Justin couldn't really be his assistant. Then again he'd probably have to fire Justin, too, for actually trying to get work done and not just hiding under Brian's desk and sucking his cock all day long. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation; moments after shooting his load, Justin was up and kissing his lips, saying, "Okay, now dinner and drinks. Then tonight, once the kid's in bed, you let _me_ fuck _you_."

"So that's what you call a celebration?"

"That's what I call my due."

Brian sighed in faux exasperation and gamely let Justin lead him by the hand, grabbing his coat on the way out.

::::

The trip to Toronto was easy: flight smooth, pilot silent so Brian could get some fucking work done, and the landing impeccable. It was the rest of the trip that was going to be full of turbulence, thought, as the driver pulled up in front of Mel and Lindsay's two-story, gingerbread-looking house in the suburbs.

The trip had been planned carefully. J.R. was staying late at school for a drama production of some sort, and Mel had agreed to be at work, which left just Brian and Lindsay sitting in the living room drinking tea like old grannies or something, waiting for Gus to get home.

"He's angry a lot right now," Lindsay said. "It isn't just you, Brian. I want you to know that it isn't all about you. He yelled at me the other day because he said that the cookies I'd made were wrong. I still don't know how they were wrong, they tasted fine to us, but it was apparently a huge affront to his sensibilities, and he stomped upstairs like a toddler. Mel and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. We wonder sometimes where our sweet boy went."

"Sorry about that," Brian said, certain that his genes were responsible for the sullen, bratty behavior.

"Oh, please, Brian," Lindsay said, rolling her eyes. "No apologies, remember?"

The front door opened and Gus entered the house slinging a massive bag of football equipment down floor of the front entrance, allowing it to slam into the door at the end of the hall.

Lindsay sighed and shook her head, and then tried to smile encouragingly at Brian as she called out, "Gus, honey, can you come into the living room, please?"

"I'll clean it up later," Gus yelled, clomping toward the kitchen. "I'm hungry."

"Just come into the living room, Gus. I'll get some food for you in a minute."

Gus stopped and turned dramatically on one heel, stopping in the doorway when he saw Brian sitting in the chair, a mask of anger dropping over his already sullen expression. "What are you doing here?"

"Gus—" Lindsay began, but Brian cut her off.

"You won't return my calls. You don't pick up when I call you. You think I'm not going to do something about that?"

Gus sneered. "I didn't think you'd care. You never have before."

"Gus," Lindsay started, but Brian lifted his hand and she stopped. "All right, I'll leave you two alone. Gus, listen to what your father has to say. He's come a long way to talk to you."

"He's not my father," Gus said, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's a sperm donor."

"Lindsay," Brian said, forestalling the scolding he knew as coming. "Get out."

Lindsay's exit from the room was slow and filled with expressive looks at Gus, threats laced in with hopeful understanding.

"Sit down," Brian said.

"Like fuck I will," Gus replied.

"All right," Brian said, shifting in his seat, his hands clasped over his knees, wanting to stand up, to be on equal ground with his son, to maybe get in his face and challenge him for his behavior, to put him back in his place, because he was Brian Fucking Kinney and he could do that in a heart beat, but he held himself back. He stayed seated and let Gus glare down at him, let him feel in control for the moment.

"Look, I was a shit father," Brian said, clenching his jaw. "But I did the best I could."

"Bullshit."

"Believe what you want, but I never hit you, never spit in your face, or slapped your mother, so I'm still miles ahead of my old man," Brian said.

"I don't want to hear that," Gus said, his nose wrinkling with disgust. "Fuck your pity party. I still deserved better than what I got."

"You did," Brian said. "A lot better. But I wouldn't do it any differently."

Gus looked struck, his face paling and then going white as though a hand had slapped him. "Why?"

"If you thought I was here to apologize to you for not being a different dad, I'm not."

Gus blinked and Brian saw his son's shoulders start to round, his confidence deflating like a leaking balloon, and a glassy sheen coming over his eyes.

Brian went on, "My dad beat the hell out of me. I have no idea how to parent a son. I'm gay. I'm addicted to sex and used to abuse drugs sometimes. I was unfit to be your father. And I was the best father I could be because I fucking knew that. I won't apologize for staying away from you when all I would have done is ruined you. This, all that you are? It's not just Mel and Linds who did that. I did it, too, by staying out of the way and letting them."

"Why wasn't I worth more to you?"

Brian stood up then, crossed the room, and ducked his head, forcing Gus to meet his eyes. "You were worth _everything_ and that's why I stayed away. I could have selfishly insisted on fucking you up, too."

"You did anyway. I'm fucked up."

"Welcome to being a goddamn human being."

"So you're going to fuck her up, though. You're willing to ruin her life?"

"No," Brian said, though the fear twisted in his gut, and a memory of his father's fist slamming into his face shook him. "I'm different now. And, I don't know if you can understand this, Gus, but she's not a boy. It's different."

"You're marrying him, right? Mom said."

"I am," Brian said. "And I want you there. I want you in my life."

Gus shook his head. "You don't get that. Just because you want it. You can't have it."

"That's fair," Brian said. "But I'm not going anywhere, Gus. Because I love you."

He didn't even hesitate saying it this time. It was hard, though, like cutting out some part of himself and handing it to Gus to trample.

"Well, I don't love you."

"Fine," Brian said. "I'm your fucking father. And, yeah, you got handed a shitty one."

"Stop saying that," Gus said, turning away. "I hate it when you say that."

"You and me both, Sonny Boy," Brian said, sighing, running a hand over his face when Gus turned and ran up the stairs.

"Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head and looking at the ceiling where he could hear Gus's feet shuffling around.

"Give him time, "Lindsay said from the doorway.

"Time," Brian said.

"Well, what else have you got?" Lindsay said, crossing to him and putting her head against his chest. "Just don't give up on him, Brian. You need him. Believe it or not, you really need him."

::::

"You realize, of course, that he's not going to be pleased," Ted said, eyeballing the contents of the safe.

"It's not for him."

"Well, _that's_ good news, because if this is your idea of a wedding gift, I'd say he's going to be seriously pissed off."

"Oh, Teddy, always so supportive with the doom and gloom," Brian mocked, crossing his arms and gazing at piece after piece. He'd wanted the series the first time he saw it, and now he had it.

"Well, artificially inflating the value of his art isn't exactly something I imagine Justin jumping up and down over."

Brian rolled his eyes. "I'm an investor. I'm not a suburban housewife and I never fake it. I had as much right to these as anyone else." Brian picked up a painting, light and dark colluding to squeeze against existence, and he smiled.

Teddy rolled his eyes and said, "What about Babylon, then?"

"$5,000,000. Tell Natalie and arrange for it. I'm out."

"Who would have thought?" Ted said, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning in a way that made Brian want to spit at him. "Brian Kinney all grown up. It's like one of the five signs of the apocalypse. I'm amazed and afraid."

Brian snorted and glanced down at his cell phone, surprised to see Gus's name on the caller i.d.. Waving Ted off, Brian exited the safe and headed for the nearest exit. He preferred no witnesses to this conversation, just in case.

Brian had tried to call Gus at least once a day since he left Toronto. Not once had Gus picked up or returned a message. Brian had memorized the message on the answering service: _It's Gus. Leave a message._

"Well?" Gus said instead of hello.

"Well, what?" Brian asked.

"You call every day. I assume there's a reason."

Brian pushed back from his desk, looked out the window of his new office, and surveyed the work being done by the landscapers.

Gus didn't wait for him to respond. "Uncle Michael said I had to talk to you. So, I am. What do you want?"

He'd rehearsed this a thousand times in his mind. He didn't know why he was having such a hard time spitting it out now that Gus was on the phone. There was no place for his pride in this conversation. He'd already lost that in his ridiculous stalking of his own son and by letting Gus run him over in Toronto. Why was it so hard to concede now?

"Come stay with me this summer," Brian said.

"Why should I?"

Brian sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Because I want you to, Sonny Boy. It would be…." What would it be? An attempt to make up for everything he'd failed at in the past fifteen years? "Nice."

"In what way would it be nice for me to see you playing happy fucking family?"

"You could be in this happy fucking family, Gus."

"I don't want to."

Brian let out a slow breath. It was like with the Johansson Fish Sticks case. He could feel Gus slipping away just like he'd felt Mr. Johansson had lost interest from the moment he found out Brian was gay. That, however, hadn't been any great loss. This situation was different.

Brian remembered Justin talking to Belle over breakfast, telling her that she was part of this family whether she liked it or not, and that people in this family clean up their toys when they're done playing with them. She'd cried, "But you're grown ups! You don't have toys!"

Brian had said, "Belle, _everyone_ has toys."

Brian wasn't above bribery. It had worked with Belle, after all, and was a fifteen year old boy that different from a five year old? "The house is big enough. There's a pool, tennis courts, and a horse."

Brian felt Gus's hesitation. He pushed more. "You could work at Michael's comic book store. Earn some extra money." Brian swallowed, and hoped he was right when he added, "You always liked it there." God knew that Brian had always taken Gus there, but whether he'd like it or not, it was hard to say.

"I don't know," Gus said. Brian felt the waver in his son's resolve. "I…have to take care of my sister while my moms are at work."

"Bring her. Your moms would let her come. Michael would love it." Brian rolled his eyes, already seeing his home overrun with people. If Gus and J.R. were staying there, Michael would be over all the time, and Hunter would show up with his wife and kid, and then Ted and Emmett and Debbie and, for fucks sake, everyone who ever knew any of them, would turn up in some continuous fucking family-friendly party. It would be a nightmare. "It would be great," Brian said, because it would be that, too.

"My girlfriend—' Gus started. "I..uh," Gus paused. "I had sex with her."

Brian leaned back against the building and braced himself, repulsion at the idea of dick and vagina coming together running through him alongside a massive rush of relief. Gus was talking to him. Fuck, had he managed it? Now, if he could keep from screwing this up, maybe they would get somewhere. He was pretty sure that "Was it good?" wasn't the right thing for a father to say. He asked it anyway.

"Yeah," Gus breathed. "The best thing ever."

"Good," Brian said. "That's how it should be. Did you use a condom?"

Gus groaned. "God, of course. I'm not an idiot."

"Always use condoms."

"I used a fucking condom, all right?"

"Good."

Gus was silent for a minute and then said, "I'd like to come down, I guess. I mean, I want to see Michael and all. I guess the rest of it would be…nice. But, I kind of want to have sex with my girlfriend more than I want to go down there."

"I would say to bring her, but your moms would cut my balls off."

"Yeah, they don't know. About the sex," Gus said. "Don't tell them, okay?"

"Sonny Boy, I doubt they'd be surprised."

"Don't tell them. Ma already hates her as it is. Besides, I wouldn't want her to come. She'd ruin things."

Brian frowned. Something was off. Brian remembered the straight boys in high school, the way they'd moon over girls, and then talk them down once they'd fucked them. But…this was different. "You don't like her," Brian said.

"I had sex with her," Gus repeated. "I like sex."

"For fuck's sake, Gus, you don't have to marry her. There are plenty of muffs to stick your dick in, if that's your thing."

"It's hard with girls!" Gus exclaimed. "They make it so that you have to do all of this stupid stuff just to get somewhere with them! It's not fair."

"Fuck fair," Brian said. "Jesus, I can't believe I'm going to say this, but it's better when you like them, so if you don't like her, dump her ass, and find another girl to put out."

"You don't know anything about girls," Gus said.

"Thank God," Brian said.

"I kind of hate her most of the time," Gus confessed.

"Dump her," Brian said.

Gus was silent for a long time, and Brian was afraid he'd lost him again. "Okay," Gus said. "And…I'll come down for the summer, but under one condition."

Brian hated conditions. "What?"

"You tell Ma. She kind of hates you."

Brian sagged in relief, a strange prickling in his eyes, and he said, "Sure, Sonny Boy. I can do that."

"Oh, and, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not going anywhere," Brian replied. "Besides, sorry's bullshit."

::::

"My fiancé purchased the series as a wedding gift to himself," Justin was laughing to the press who had attended the opening of Kinnetik, featuring the Life Series by Justin Taylor in the spacious, airy lobby. "I was surprised, but incredibly pleased to have such an intimate and personal work of art back in the family. It was inspired by my daughter's birth, and my fiancé has arranged for it to be passed on to her later in life."

Brian sipped champagne, listening to Justin with one ear and to Lindsay with the other. Michael had already come and gone, and Mel had stayed home with the kids, Debbie was with Carl in Florida, and Jennifer was touring the place with Emmett and Ted. Aside from a few clients, and other assholes he needed to impress, Brian was almost ready to let his guard down.

"So, the wedding is next week," Lindsay said with an inflection to her voice that made Brian think she meant something else entirely.

"It's a celebration of marriage," Brian said. "Not a wedding. Neither of us are blushing brides."

Lindsay chuckled. "Did you just say 'celebration of marriage'? My God, Brian, I'm afraid to look out the window for fear of seeing flying pigs."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Justin's idea."

"Of course," Lindsay laughed, obviously not believing him. "I think Justin would just call it a wedding and be done with it."

"And you claim to know him," Brian murmured, watching Justin's mouth move as he talked to yet another reporter. He'd seen more interviews than Brian, and it was Brian's office opening that the reporters had been invited to, and the art was Brian's investment. Still, it was always nice to watch Justin's mouth move.

"If you wear a veil, I'll dance the hula naked at the reception," Lindsay said.

Brian took her glass of champagne from her hand and downed it himself.

"I've always wanted to do that, actually," Lindsay said a little dreamily. "But I never had the balls.

"You're drunk," Brian smirked. "I haven't seen you this drunk since--"

"Oh, I was so much drunker than this when we...you know."

"Don't remind me," Brian said. Vaginas still made him feel faint when he considered them too closely.

"What did he say?"

"Who?" Brian asked, confused by the lack of segue.

"Justin, when you told him. About the art."

"He threw a hissy fit until I showed it all to him, and then, egotist that he is, he fell in love with it all over again, and had me fuck him right in the middle of the safe, while he talked about what a genius he was. Ridiculous."

"Don't you look smug," Lindsay laughed. "It must've been good."

"I wouldn't marry him if it wasn't good," Brian said, straightening his tie. "Speaking of, I think I see a waiter who needs my attention."

"Oh, but of course," Lindsay said. "Go right ahead."

Brian stalked toward his prey, a blond waiter with a tight ass, and catching Justin's eye, motioned for him to break away from the reporters and join him with the waiter in his office. Justin lifted his chin in acknowledgement and followed.

The waiter did have a tight ass, and was clearly unprepared to be fucked by both of them, but he'd given in after Justin had shown him what he could do with his mouth. Now the waiter had his ass in the air and Brian's dick in his ass while he clawed at Brian's desk. Justin stood across from Brian, pumping into the guy's mouth, kissing Brian every few thrusts. It didn't take long before the waiter was humping his hand and coming hard, gasping and shaking as Brian and Justin emptied their loads.

Taking off the condom, Brian asked, "Did you feel good about leaving her with Eli?"

"You didn't?" Justin asked, still breathless from the blow job, but now looking fretful and even scared. "It was your idea."

"She's fine," Brian said, regretting saying anything.

"Let's go home."

"It's Kinnetik's party," Brian said. "I can't exactly walk away from it, Sunshine."

"Sure you can. Say you've got to go to bed early. Say you want to get home so we can fuck. I don't care, but end it."

The waiter was still cleaning himself up when Brian announced that he had a very early morning flight to see an important client. Leaving Cynthia in charge of the party, and Teddy in charge of Lindsay, Brian and Justin went home.

Eli, as it turned out, was reading a textbook and taking notes on the couch in the den when they arrived. "She was good," Eli said, absently scribbling a few words before snapping his notebook shut. "Ate her dinner, watched a Beauty and the Beast, and went to bed at 8:30 without even being told!"

"Why doesn't she do that for us?" Justin asked.

Checking on Belle, she was fast asleep in her bed, her lips pursed and wetly blowing bubbles in her dreams. Brian stood in the doorway, watching as Justin adjusted her blanket, and kissed her forehead. He remembered the tantrum Belle had thrown earlier in the morning about the flavor of yogurt Justin was packing in her lunch, and he wondered how she could be such a nightmare and then turn it all around, making his heart hurt with affection for her just by sleeping.

Justin wrapped his arms around Brian's waist and gazed at her saying, "She's like her mother. I miss her."

"She's like you," Brian said. "She knows what she wants and she gets it."

Justin went still in his arms, and he said, "Don't tell me you bought her that Disney Princess Castle!"

"No, I got her the ridiculous princess bed. It'll be here on Thursday."

Justin shoved at him and laughed. "God, you're such a pushover."

"Lucky for you," Brian murmured in his ear.

"If you call what I went through to be here with you right now being a pushover then you're fucking delusional."

Brian shrugged. He'd been an idiot, and an asshole, and he'd made it ten lonely years because of his own stubborn self-loathing, and it was hard, like fighting a fucking hurricane with nothing but his fists, but he wasn't going to push Justin away, and he wasn't going anywhere. Not this time. Not ever.

::::

The ceremony itself was brief, and the vows simple declarations of an intent to be partners until death. Gus and Michael stood up with them, and Belle threw a bunch of flowers in the air as they kissed. The certificate was signed alongside Belle's adoption paperwork, and, like that, they were a family.

Champagne, toasts, and more "I didn't think you had it in yous" than Brian could stand, and then he was cornered by Debbie. It wasn't like he didn't know he'd have to endure one of her motherly moments, but he hoped it wouldn't last too long.

"Shit, I always _knew_ you had it in you," Debbie said, the anti-chorus as always. "I remember when you were just a little thing, coming to my house with the snot beaten out of you—"

"Deb," Brian said.

"Now, look at you. Married and with a kid. Jesus H. Christ, don't fuck this up, you little shit."

"Mom, leave him alone," Michael said, pushing Brian away and toward the house. "It's his wedding day!"

"Michael needs to explain the birds and the bees to me," Brian grinned, letting himself be tugged past the other guests, into the relative quiet of the den.

"You can thank me later for getting you away from her before she pinched your cheek," Michael said.

"So," Brian said, putting his arms on Michael's shoulders and pressing their foreheads together. "What words of wisdom do you have for this blushing bride on her wedding day? Lay back and think of England?"

Michael hit him softly. "No. You idiot."

"What?" Brian said.

"Just…be good to him, and stick around. That's really all it takes."

"And fuck his brains out," Brian added.

"Well, that, yeah," Michael laughed. "That's a given though."

They stood together, arms around each other, looking out the open window at the guests milling around the pool. Jennifer and Molly stood with Lindsay, laughing and shaking their heads. Gus, pursued by Belle, carried a plate of food toward the chair beside the window, and sat down.

"Do you like apples?" Belle asked. "My horse, Strawberry, loves apples. She eats them all the time."

"I'm not a horse," Gus said.

"So, you don't like apples?" Belle replied, her small voice uncertain.

"Sure, I like apples."

"Oh," Belle said, sidling up beside him and staring down at his plate. "What about strawberries?"

"Do you want one?" Gus asked.

"Yes!"

"Here," he handed it to her. "Now, go away."

Belle did not go away. She stayed by his side staring up at him with huge eyes, asking questions and pestering him, until Brian was surprised that he didn't snap at her, or hurt her feelings. He was a good kid. Lindsay and Mel had done well with him.

"I think someone has a crush," Michael murmured.

"One day, she'll bring a boy home with her," Brian said, horror in his veins.

Michael whispered, "Are you scared?"

Brian looked into Michael's eyes, and rubbed their noses together. "Terrified," he admitted.

Justin's voice cut in softly. "Having doubts already?"

Brian turned around and dragged Justin into the circle, hugging both him and Michael close, feeling the scrape of their stubble on his neck and cheek. His eyes shut, he could remember his father's voice, his hand coming out of nowhere to bring pain, and he hugged Michael and Justin tighter, hearing Belle's high-pitched voice float in from the window, and listening for Gus's quiet response.

"He's having doubts," Justin said to Michael, his voice strained by the strength of Brian's hug.

"Not a one," Brian replied. "Not a single one."

::::

  
THE END


End file.
